


Being smart doesn't make sense sometimes...

by Kitkat5436



Category: Sherlock Holmes (BBC Radio)
Genre: Cocaine, Depressed Sherlock Holmes, Drug Use, Hallucinations, John Watson Saves Sherlock Holmes, Panic Attacks, Sherlock is a Mess, Stalker Jim Moriarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 06:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkat5436/pseuds/Kitkat5436
Summary: Sherlock is addicted to drugs and he keeps having impulses in trying to take them yet, he can never seem to stop. However, when he is in a low mood something happens, something unexplainable something... even Sherlock doesn't know.





	Being smart doesn't make sense sometimes...

**Author's Note:**

> please bear in mind this is graphic and does contain drug use and could trigger people either with addictions or of a young age. Please, before reading this, be cautious of doing so. This is a warning.

Sleep. Why should I need it? I have no reason to be asleep but, then again, I have no reason to be awake either. No cases in 2 days. No fun to be had. It's so boring. Dull. My brain can't even function properly. Maybe John's awake? Probably not. I should check, I don't feel like myself at all. The hall way is dark, it feels longer than usual. Which one is our room again? Was it this one? No. This one? No. It must be this one then. The room is pitch black, yet the curtains are open. John is in his bed, the room's a mess. I haven't been in here for so long, its technically just John's room, not mine. I never sleep in here, I never sleep at all.

"John..." I whisper. "A-are you awake?" No reply... I'm going to have to take care of myself. I don't- I can't rely on John all the time, like he's my life line. I think... I know what to do. The door creaks as I close it slightly behind me, trying not to wake up John. The bathroom is next to our- his room. It's just as dark as the other room. Which tile was it? Where did I hide them? I can't remember, my brain is just focused on what I need... to function. The wall tiles are cold and symmetrical, how am I going to find them? Wait- this one's cracked... I remember now. This is it. They're here! The cubby hole contains my box, I'm surprised how John hasn't found them yet. Oh well. Why didn't I turn the light on? There wasn't a need to. Why am I questioning my actions? Maybe I'm in the wrong? Why am I doubting my answers? I'm a mess. I wonder what the new fish and chip shop is like? It's probably better than my cooking. I miss my dog. He was a good pet. Or was he a boy? Can't remember. Where are my slippers? I probably left them in the kitchen. I like cup of tea's how about I get one of them while I'm in there. How many sugars should I have? Where is the sugar?... "Aghhhh.....!!!" My brains turning to mush. What is mush? Mush:

a soft, wet, pulpy mass. Mush:

feeble or cloying sentimentality. Mush:

reduce (a substance) to a soft, wet, pulpy mass. "Shut up!" I need this now!

 

The living room is lightly lit from the computer screen and my fire place. The sofa is cold now, shame. It was warm as well. Oh well. The box goes down on the coffee table with a thud. Thud: 

a dull, heavy sound, such as that made by an object fallin- shut up! I open the latch, it's cold like the tiles from the bathroom. I open the wooden box and the lid slams on the table. Table: 

a piece of furniture with a flat top and one or more legs, providing a level surface... FOR GODS SAKE! I look in the box at the objects I kept all this time. The white powder in the pouch, the rusted spoon, the syringe still stained with the orange, syrup like substance from last time and finally the lighter. The pouch is the first thing I go for. I take a long sniff of the contents, it smells like... sweet... sweet... relief. I sprinkle some on the spoon and grab the lighter.

 

Shaking. Why am I doing it? I have no reason to be shaking but, then again, I have no reason to be not shaking either. No drugs in 2 months. No relief given. It's so pitiful. disgusting. I can't even function properly. Maybe its for the best? Maybe not. I should do it anyway, I don't feel like myself at all... here we go. The powder is bubbling now from the heat... hurry... hurry. Just about... done! YES! HAHA! Pour it into the syringe, quick, quick. Just a little more. It's killing me, how slow it's going. Finally! Right... now I just need to... to... how do I do this again? Uh... Do- do I drink it? That doesn't sound right, I wouldn't have put the syringe in the box. What do I do with syringes? I think I squirt it. I'll squirt a little bit and see if I feel better... how was I wrong? Ok, focus, it's pointy so, it goes into something or hurts something. Pointy things hurt. Do things actually hurt? OR is it just a sense that we use to make us more human? Are senses even real? Only one way to find out... so, pointy thing in my... whatever it's called... thing coming out of my... my... uh, the thing I hold things with, it's connected to that... then pushy thing from the injecty thing needs to be... uh... pushed and watery thing goes into the thing that keeps us alive... uh... it's red... um... or is it blue? On the outside it looks blue... or green... but when it comes out of us... it's red. Fascinating. Why did I say us? There aren't other people here... just me... HOLMES! What... Sherlock! How am I? Sherlock! What- SHERLOCK! My brain- SHERLOCK!! What? What?? What?! SHERLOCK HOLMES!? Why is my thinking thing doing this? PLEASE, get up! Why do I need to get up? GOD, PLEASE, WAKE UP! Wait-wait. FOR ME, SHERLOCK! John? Sherlock? Who's John? Why did I- God damn you, Sherlock! It's me, John... John Watson.

 

"J-John?" Everything is fuzzy, white. "Where are you?" I need to find him, I- I need him. He keeps me alive, he keeps me working, he keeps me together.

 

"Yes, Sherlock it's me. Don't worry, what have you done?" I can see him, he's right in front of me. I'm- I'm coming John, I'm coming, I'm... not... moving. John- John I can't move! I can't move! Help, please, John!"

 

"Do you trust me, Sherlock?"

 

"W-what?"

 

"Did I stutter? Do you trust me?" Do I trust him? What is trust? It's a possession that is meant to be broken. Trust. It's meant to be broken, it will always be broken. Why should I trust? I'll get hurt, I'll show feelings... feelings... why do I need feelings... why does anyone need feelings? We wouldn't be human if we didn't. Why does people need humanity? It doesn't change us from being a person whether we show feelings or not because in the end we will all die and nothing will matter. So, why should trusting matter? It doesn't... nothing does! "Answer me... quick!!!" It doesn't matter how far you fall and how you being to fall... it's all about how you handle it... how you land. "Do you trust me!?" So if I land badly it's all over! I have to have control. "ANSWER ME!" I have to have control! "SHERLOCK!" I HAVE TO HAVE CONTROL!!! "NOW!" CONTROL!

"

 

"YES! YES! CHRIST SAKE, YES!"

 

"Jump..." What jump... where? I can't move. "Yes you can move, just jump." I can't though! "You can't if you think you can't. You are only as in control as you are with you're on mind. You need to jump now." Ok... ok...ok... just... jump! Jump! Jump! JUMP!!!.....

 

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

 

"Sherlock. open your eyes." Who's that? "Come on, Sherlock. Just open your eyes." It's not, John. This... this voice... it's like a snake. "Come on, I won't bite." Mischievous. I know who this is

.

 

"What do you want?" Don't open your eyes, Sherlock. It's not real, it'll just trick you.

 

"That's not very nice. I thought you would be pleased after our last meeting to see me because it's not like you're going to be seeing me again. However, all good things happen to those who wait." Moriarty.

 

"Ha, please- wait, you're dead so, why are you here?"

 

"oh, Sherlock. You are falling apart without me, aren't you. I'm driving you crazy." He's messing with you, Sherlock. Don't listen. He isn't really here. "Aren't I? Feels pretty real to me. OPEN YOUR EYES! ALL OF THIS! THIS IS REALITY, SHERLOCK! Yet you're so oblivious to that fact. I thought I found a good enemy but, you're just like the rest. Boring. Bland. Dull. A bloody pillock." No- no I'm not... I'm not... What did he just say?

 

"What did you just say?"

 

"You're a bloody pillock, Sherlock!"

 

"John?" It can't be him? This is Moriarty, though. I need to see it's him. but, what if it isn't him? I need to take my chances But first... "John, is this you?"

 

"Of course it's me, you cock!" That's my John! Open you're eyes... open... open!

 

"Moriarty...!" No, I-it can't be him? I-I've been tricked!

 

"Did you miss me?!" He's laughing at me! I-I'm not stupid! I didn't get tricked! Did I?! Gah-gah- arghhhhhhh!

 

"JOHN!!!!!!"

 

I wake up. Where am I? My eyes hurt, everything's white, argh. I-I need John. Where am I?

 

"I see you've woken up, Sherlock. This makes it official, you are an utter idiot." That's John, I know his voice, I recognise his figure. Come on eyes, concentrate.

 

"Where am I, John?" I ask, jeez everything hurts.

 

"The hospital, I caught you last night. You came into our room to check on me. You said my name to check if I was awake, I responded but, you just asked if I was awake and I said yes and you walked away. I got up out of bed and followed you into the bathroom and you were feeling the wall and you opened one of the tiles where you keep your stash of 'sweets'. I had already taken out the drugs and the syringe. All you had was a dead lighter and a spoon and an empty bag that had been cleaned out. You then started talking saying stuff like 'I'm surprised how John hasn't found them yet.' I just watched you in amusement. You walked out and sat on the sofa and started to complain how cold it was and threw the box onto the table. You then started pretending to inject yourself with some however, it turned down hill. You grabbed the knife off the fire place, that you hold all the unsolved cases and started cutting into your wrist and saying how fascinating it is when you see blood inside your skin and it's either blue or green and when it comes out it is red. You hit a vein before I could stop you. You fell to the floor, I started shouting your name and you simply just said gibberish and asking who I was and you passed out. You woke up moments after and asked me where I was and I reassured you that I was right in front of you. I asked if you trusted me to call an ambulance and keep you alive in the mean time and you just said you shouldn't. You kept asking what I said and I asked you again and again. You wouldn't stop asking so I got angry at you and shouted. Then, you were out again. I kept asking for you to open your eyes and you wouldn't so I called you a pillock. After that you stopped speaking and the ambulance arrived and they took you and I here. I stayed with you the whole time. You've been out at least a day."

 

"Wow... that was a lot different from my point of view. Trust me." That was the weirdest thing that's happened before... not intoxicated, that is. "Thank you, John. For helping me. Also, stopping with me."

 

"No problem, I just need to grab another coffee from the machine, you ok for 5 minutes?"

 

"Yeah, I'll be ok." He walks out the room and I relax fully into my bed. A doctor walks in and comes next to me. "Hello? You are?" He says nothing puts his face next to my ear, I sit looking straight ahead in shock, that a doctor has just walked in and is now inches away from my ear. I gulp.

 

"Did you miss me?" He says as he starts laughing. I look at him with shock, it's......

 

 

**MORARTY....                        "Let's play one last game, for old times sake..."**


End file.
